I'm squeezing in a bit of blogging around some other pressing work - in fact, I'm right in the middle of writing up a review of the production of The Imaginary Invalid, which we saw at Portland Center Stage last Friday.
But because I meant to post this other thing weeks ago... and because my last night was filled with dreams of losing José and finding José and frantically trying to find water for José, wandering around under rickety, wooden structures and through endless underground mazes trying to find a way out so that I could find water for José... here is a picture of the tiny post-it that sits by the place where I do my writing. And which I wrote about in a tiny moment way back before Christmas.
There he is. New tape and all.
La Alameda de México, by José María Velasco, 1866
21 hours ago